The first fragile, pure snow falls upon the earth. Luring the Earth to rest, like a white soft duvet on the land. Mother Earth rests quietly, no sound no life. A sort of quietness that one cannot simply put to words, but the pure white land is interrupt by the red of the roses who aren't supposed to be blooming yet it does. It was like some sort of joke played by someone, the red compared to the pure white of the land was very much like blood tainting the land. 

A man stands alone in the dead of the winter, his gaze was fixed on the red roses that he placed upon the grave. Yet in his eyes was empty, as if he was physically there but mentally somewhere else. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of the dark coat he wore to protect himself from the winter's wind that plays it's melody through the land in a quiet hum. The coffin has yet to be close and bury, yet most would be expecting a rotten corpse by now. 

Instead of a decomposing body, there was his beloved. Beautiful and sincere, almost as if he was just sleeping and not had been dead for the past 3 years. Like an angel he appears to be in the coffin, hands link together on his chest with the roses that was brought by his darling months ago. Compared to his beloved, the flowers were withered, they emphasized the youth of the man who sleeps with mother nature. He was a being whose youth was eternal even in death, if someone who didn't know he had died. They would have mistaken the man for being 20 and not 50 years old, this was a sick joke. While everyone aged, he stayed young but he was the first to go, it was ironic how life played them. 

The man finally lets himself to take a deep breath, he was not young but old in appearance so as in mind. He lowers himself gently into the grave of his beloved, small hand cupping the cheek of his beloved. His hand was like the withered roses held by his beloved, withered away by the cruel father time who spares him no mercy unlike his beloved who was spared by time and forever he looked young even in death. He was really a man who was loved by all, seeing nothing had change in those 3 years of death. His face shows peace, and the man smiles glad that no one had disrupted his beloved's eternal sleep. With his other hand, he places it on top of his beloved's hands leaning in to place a loving kiss on his beloved's forehead. 

One can say that he is crazy, but he can't stop himself. Not when his beloved just looks like he is taking a nap, like he used to when he was tired after a long day of composing his music. The man smiles, fitting himself into the coffin with his beloved, he lets his eyes close as memories rushes back to him. The nights they spend cuddling, playfully kissing each other, stealing kisses when they thought no one was looking. 

He knows his time comes, but he pushes himself to sit up even if his body who had withered with time was screaming to lay back down with his beloved. He gently ta